


since the flood

by orphan_account



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, honestly I don't really know what to tag this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 11:08:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7505959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Do you think we were together?"</p><p>Alexander makes a noncommittal noise from where he's lying on the bed.</p><p>“In another life, I mean,” John continues. His head is pillowed in Alex’s lap, one of his curls caught in Alex’s belt loop. That’s going to hurt him later, Alex thinks.</p><p>-</p><p>It's a rainy day. Alex and John are in bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	since the flood

“Do you think we were together?”

It’s raining outside. It’s a hot kind of rain, the type that seeps through a windowpane and stains sills brown. Alexander makes a noncommittal noise from where he’s lying on the bed; he feels lazy and tired for the first time in what seems like decades, and even moving his mouth is too much effort.

“In another life, I mean,” John continues. His head is pillowed in Alex’s lap, one of his curls caught in Alex’s belt loop. _That’s going to hurt him later,_ Alex thinks.

“I don’t know if I believe in other lives,” Alex says. Slowly, he lifts one of his hands and tangles it in John’s hair. He expects knots like the ones hiding in his own mane, but there aren’t any. Just softness.

John sighs a little. The hard corner of his elbow pokes Alex in the thigh, but Alex can’t quite muster the will to ask John to move.

Outside the window, a horn blares. It sounds like an semi-truck, but gurgles like an ice machine.

“But, like, if there were past lives. If we lived in, like, the fifteenth century.”

Alex twists his fingers in John’s hair. John is swirling patterns with his fingertips on Alex’s kneecap, but Alex can’t tell what they are without looking.

He doesn’t look.

“Probably not,” he says. It doesn’t sound romantic. It sounds like a dead fish washed up on a dirty beach by the pier: sad.

“Why?” John sounds curious.

Alex tries to shrug, but is too tired to move much, so it falls flat. The mattress still shakes, just a little, the same way it does when someone runs down their hallway. “People didn’t - do this, back then. It wasn’t accepted. We probably - you probably would’ve married someone, a nice girl, had kids.”

John yawns, leans back into Alex’s touch. Alex watches his eyelashes sweep back and forth slowly as his eyes blink shut, like sheets on a clothesline. Alex scratches John’s scalp. 

“Just me?” John says. “What about you?”

Alex’s ankle itches. “I don’t know. I’d probably die young. The hurricane, maybe. The Caribbean wasn’t exactly stable in the 1400s, you know.” _Not that it is now._

Somewhere behind them, the air conditioner clicks on.

John shifts in Alex’s lap, moving so he’s facing into Alex’s abdomen. He noses against Alex’s ribs for just a moment, before pressing a kiss into Alex’s stomach over his t-shirt.

The shirt’s soft - blue tie-die. John gave it to him. Alex swallows hard, and ignores the sharp pain in his stomach, like a bone jutting out.

“I’m glad we don’t live in the fifteenth century,” John says, his words more of a vibration than a noise. Alex feels them in his teeth, in his fingernails.

“Me too,” Alex says. He looks out the window again.

He thinks he can hear lightning.

 

**Author's Note:**

> title from 'ophelia' by the lumineers.
> 
> honestly, i don't even know what this is. founding fathers fic .... yeah. 
> 
> if you were wondering, i was picturing the actors in the play (and ramos's hair, specifically. which sounds super weird, but oh well).


End file.
